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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24005986">Evergreen</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/unkindravens/pseuds/unkindravens'>unkindravens</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Magical Realism, Post-Canon, Whump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:35:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,436</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24005986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/unkindravens/pseuds/unkindravens</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Stevie is coughing up flowers. Stevie is in love with her best friend. Stevie has a choice to make.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Stevie Budd &amp; David Rose, Stevie Budd &amp; Patrick Brewer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Stevie's Petals</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first foray into magical realism. Here we go!</p>
<p>I also made a <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/62HPkkJ5CWXUQtTBOu36kN?si=C1HFcRRLSjeLFuxX4CFedg">playlist</a> which is all I listened to while writing this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>It first happened when Stevie was home alone. She coughed and couldn’t catch her breath, like when she had bronchitis. She grabbed a tissue from the bathroom and hacked into it. Hacking, but not throwing up. Like she had a person hairball.</p>
<p>She looked at the tissue. There was yellow mucus, blood, and blue petals. Wait, blue petals? What the fuck?</p>
<p>No, this could not be happening. This must be some cosmic mistake. Stevie wasn’t seeing anyone, how could she have feelings for someone? Did she really have it? She’d known a couple of people who had it. When Patrick started working at the store, David horked up a bunch of orchids, but that stopped with the first kiss in Patrick’s car.</p>
<p>Maybe she ate flowers...? In her sleep? Did Twyla hide them in a new salad? She suddenly felt like she was dying of thirst.</p>
<p>Stevie downed two tall glasses of water and didn’t feel much better. Jesus, was she watering herself like a <em> plant</em>?</p>
<p>But a plant for whom?</p>
<p>Not for—not him. She’d gotten over that years ago. Sure, he’s her best friend and they used to bang, but <em> romance</em>? And now? He’d been married for a month.</p>
<p>Fuck, the wedding <em> did </em> make her look at him differently. She was thrilled to be maid of honor. She cried through the entire ceremony because those two were perfect together. They danced all night and stayed up ‘til morning. She remembered being jealous of their happiness and convinced she’d never find someone even close to that level of love. And yet…</p>
<p><em> Shit</em>.</p>
<p>Shit. Shit. She was in love with David.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Stevie stood outside of Rose Apothecary. Maybe this morning was a fluke? Is there like a twenty-four-hour crush virus? There was only one way to find out.</p>
<p>Patrick looked up from the register. “Hey, you here to talk orders?”</p>
<p>Stevie nodded and took out her portfolio. “We’ve got those two motels opening in Mississauga next month.” She handed Patrick an order slip and looked around the empty store (seriously, where were all the customers?). “Is David here?”</p>
<p>“In the back,” Patrick said. “David! Stevie’s here!”</p>
<p>“I can hear you,” David said, tangling himself in the curtain.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” Stevie said, “must be the acoustics of an empty store.”</p>
<p>“Our online business is thriving,” David huffed. “What do you want?”</p>
<p>“David,” Patrick said slowly, “Stevie’s bringing us more business for the motels. What do you say?”</p>
<p>“Ugh.” David waved his hand. “Thank you Stevie for your continued loyalty to Rose Apothecary.”</p>
<p>Stevie opened her mouth for a quick retort when—shit—she started coughing.</p>
<p>She covered her mouth with the inside of her elbow and hoped it was just the pollen that was hanging around through fall. Or maybe a plague. A nice, fast-acting plague.</p>
<p>“Is that <em> blood</em>?” Patrick ran around the counter and took Stevie’s arm. Sure enough, her jacket was splattered with blood, leaving her mouth to taste of old pennies. “How long has this been going on?”</p>
<p>“Just since this morning.” Another fit took over and Stevie pulled a tissue from her pocket. “It’s probably nothing.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think blood,” David said, gesturing toward her arm, “<em>outside </em> of the body is ever nothing.”</p>
<p>Patrick looked closer. His eyes widened and he dropped her arm. “You should go to the doctor.” He looked into her eyes. “It could be serious.”</p>
<p>“That’s what I’m saying!” David said. “What do you think it is?” Stevie crumpled the tissue and put it back in her pocket.</p>
<p>“Was that blue?” David practically shrieked. “Why are you coughing up blue?”</p>
<p>“I’m not—” Stevie sighed. “They’re petals. Blue petals.”</p>
<p>David’s face softened. “Oh, and who might the lucky one be? That new waitress Twyla hired? Who always brings you <em> extra bacon</em>.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know, okay?” She snapped. “I just… got all flowery this morning. It’s not a big deal.”</p>
<p>“You’re going to the doctor,” Patrick said. “Do you want a ride? Someone to go in with you?”</p>
<p>“I'm perfectly capable of going to the doctor by myself,” she said. Patrick being this nice was <em> not </em> helpful.</p>
<p>David put a hand on her arm. “Are you sure?”</p>
<p>Stevie heaved all over him. One touch and blue petals covered his monochromatic sweater. No blood, no mucus, just dewy fucking petals.</p>
<p>David’s grip tightened on her arm and he squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m not saying a word,” he said slowly, “because you are ill.” He looked down. “And it’s weirdly pretty. Like, in a disturbing  Leonora Carrington painting kinda way.”</p>
<p>“Doctor,” Patrick said firmly. “Today.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Well, it didn’t go away in twenty-four hours. She didn't know why she thought it would.</p>
<p>She sat on a crinkly exam table, waiting for the doctor to return with her X-ray. It was the same doctor that treated Johnny’s near-fatal heartburn. He was gentle and kind.</p>
<p>The door opened and the doctor stepped in with a laptop.</p>
<p>“Well, Miss Budd,” <em> Christ, her name was so stupid</em>, “it looks to be the beginning of hanahaki disease.”</p>
<p>Of course.</p>
<p>He pulled up the radiograph of her lungs on the computer. “You can see the flowers are taking root in your lungs, intertwining with your bronchioles. They love the damp, dark climate. You’ll continue to experience coughing as they take up more space in your chest cavity. If not corrected, you will eventually need a respirator to breathe. The chances of survival by that stage are slim. Good news, you came in right away so we have options.”</p>
<p>“Surgery?” Stevie asked quietly.</p>
<p>The doctor nodded. “Do you know how that works?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Stevie played with a loose string on her hospital gown. “I do.”</p>
<p>“So you know the sooner we operate, the better.”</p>
<p>“Can I think about it?”</p>
<p>“Of course, but don’t take too long. I’ll prescribe a steroid inhaler which should help with some of the inflammation and discomfort.” He closed his laptop. “This is treatable, Miss. Budd. Otherwise—”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’ll die.” Stevie slid off the exam table. “I get it.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Stevie spent the next week alone in her apartment. Johnny and Roland were handling the Rosebud business; she said she had the flu. She ignored texts and phone calls from David and Patrick. She also told them it was the flu, but knew she wasn’t fooling anyone. Still, they went along with it and had soup delivered from the cafe and sent chamomile tea from the store.</p>
<p>Her symptoms didn’t improve, but the congestion wasn’t worsening. At least not as quickly as she thought it would. She had several fits throughout the day, but inhalers helped with the chest pain. When she coughed it was like she could feel a root system grabbing onto her lungs and stealing her air.</p>
<p>Twyla showed up with more soup. She was the only person Stevie allowed in her apartment. She was also the only other person who knew what was going on. She always trusted Twyla with the weird shit.</p>
<p>“So I’ve been doing some digging,” Twyla said, dropping three large books on Stevie’s table. “I think I found the flower, but I’m not completely sure about the meaning.”</p>
<p>“Does there have to be a meaning?” Stevie asked. Her voice was perpetually horse.</p>
<p>“Well, sure,” Twyla said. “Different flowers have different meanings. These just have a <em> lot</em>.”</p>
<p>Twyla flipped through a book of flowers. “There! I think this is what you have.”</p>
<p>“Rhododendrons?”</p>
<p>Twyla nodded. “They come in all colors, but yours are pretty blue and purplish colors.” She opened another book. “Purple usually means dignity and pride, but blue wishes the recipient peace and serenity, isn’t that nice?”</p>
<p>Stevie coughed. “Would love some of that serenity.”</p>
<p>She picked up the flower book. “I’m sorry, does this say they’re <em> toxic</em>?”</p>
<p>Twyla nodded. “They’re like azaleas that grew at my grandmother’s house, except evergreen. So they bloom all year.”</p>
<p>“Lucky me,” Stevie muttered.</p>
<p>Twyla put the kettle on and popped the soup in the microwave. She leaned against the counter and looked at Stevie until she met Twyla’s eyes.</p>
<p>“Have you told him yet?” She asked softly. Stevie shook her head. “You should. He should know.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why? This is my problem, why make him feel bad? What, is he gonna fall in love with me so I don’t die? I don’t think it works that way.”</p>
<p>“He’d want to know, Stevie,” Twyla said. “You would if the situation were reversed.”</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>Twyla fixed a bowl of soup and mug of tea for Sevie, bringing it to the table.</p>
<p>“Eat and rest,” she said. “The last book is for you to keep,” Twyla said, nodding toward the pile. Stevie pulled out a copy of <em> The Hearing Trumpet </em> by Leonora Carrington. “I marked a quote.”</p>
<p>After eating—George really stepped up his chicken noodle soup game—she curled up in bed with the cup of tea. She opened <em> The Hearing Trumpet </em> to the page Twyla had marked.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>You may not believe in magic but something very strange is happening at this very moment. Your head has dissolved into thin air and I can see the rhododendrons through your stomach. It's not that you are dead or anything dramatic like that, it is simply that you are fading away and I can't even remember your name.</p>
</blockquote><p>Stevie sighed, which sounded like gravel in her lungs, and took out her phone and texted David.</p>
<p>“We need to talk.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. David's Flowers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Why now?” David said, flapping around the living room, fluffing pillows and moving lamps by mere millimeters. “She didn’t talk to us for a week and now… What the fuck is happening?”</p>
<p>Patrick put a hand on his back. “I don’t know, I wish I did. Stevie’ll come over and we’ll figure it all out, okay?”</p>
<p>The doorbell rang and David jumped. It was the evening after the cryptic text. Stevie wanted to meet them at their house and not the store. Which was, <em> fuck</em>, not a good sign. He pressed Twyla during lunch at the cafe, but she wouldn’t say a word.</p>
<p>David ran his hands through his hair. “Do I look okay?”</p>
<p>“What? David, it’s Stevie.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know! I’m just—I don’t know.” He took a deep breath. “Open the door.”</p>
<p>David stood behind Patrick in the foyer and when the door revealed Stevie, he shuddered. This wasn’t his best friend.</p>
<p>“Come in, you must be freezing,” Patrick said.</p>
<p>Stevie took off her parka, toque, and mittens. It was chilly out, but not to this level of outerwear. Not even by David’s standards.</p>
<p>They walked her to the living room and sat her on their large sectional couch.</p>
<p>“Can I get you some tea?” Patrick asked. He was hovering and kind of twitchy, not very Patrick-like. This was all bad. Bad, bad.</p>
<p>“Just water,” Stevie sounded rough, like her voice box was made of sandpaper.</p>
<p>David sat next to her and covered her with a quilt. She looked… tiny. Her hands were shaky, her collar bones conspicuous on her chest. She leaned forward to take her shoes off, revealing thick wool socks, and David could see her shoulder blades through her sweater, jutting out so much they looked like wings trying to break free.</p>
<p>Patrick returned with a glass of water and sat next to her. She drained the glass and licked her chapped lips.</p>
<p>“Have you been eating?” Patrick asked. “Can we get you something?”</p>
<p>Stevie shook her head. “All I do is eat. I’m hungry, like, all the time.”</p>
<p>They sat in silence.</p>
<p>“Okay,” David said, “what the fuck is going on?”</p>
<p>Stevie looked at him, her brown eyes enormous against her gaunt, pale face.</p>
<p>“It’s hanahaki.”</p>
<p>David closed his eyes and reached out for her hand. She gripped it tight.</p>
<p>David looked at her again, knowing his eyes were turning red, even though this was <em> not </em> the time to be emotional.</p>
<p>“Who is it?” he asked tentatively.</p>
<p>Stevie laughed, which turned into a cough. She convulsed between them and Patrick grabbed a box of tissues. Her body kept trying to expel something that wouldn’t come. Patrick looked as frightened as David felt.</p>
<p>She heaved once more into a tissue.</p>
<p>There was an entire flower. Not petals, a goddamn blue flower.</p>
<p>“Well that’s never happened before,” she murmured.</p>
<p>“Stevie?” Patrick said.</p>
<p>Stevie turned to David and smiled. “It’s you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>David pulled her against his chest. “You don’t have to be sorry.”</p>
<p><em> Please, god, not this</em>.</p>
<p>She said something muffled by David’s sweater.</p>
<p>“What was that? You sound like you’ve been smoking for forty years, I can’t understand a word,” David said and he felt her laugh.</p>
<p>“Patrick. I’m also sorry to Patrick. I… I don’t know why this is happening.”</p>
<p>Patrick rubbed a hand on her back. “We can’t help who we love,” he said. “And, personally, I can’t really blame you.”</p>
<p>Stevie sat up and smiled. “True.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I’m a snack, we established that.” <em> Just be</em> <em>normal</em>. “So when’s the surgery?”</p>
<p>Stevie looked at him. “What?”</p>
<p>“The surgery, I’m assuming—as you look like shit—that it’ll be soon?”</p>
<p>“We’ll help you recover,” Patrick said. “You can stay here.”</p>
<p>Stevie shivered and David pulled the quilt tight around her shoulders.</p>
<p>“I’m not having it,” she whispered.</p>
<p>“What?” David was sure he heard wrong. He <em> had </em> to have heard that wrong.</p>
<p>“I can’t, I—I’ve done a lot of research and talked to specialists and I don’t want to do it.”</p>
<p>“Why the fuck not?” David pulled away from her like she stung him.</p>
<p>“You know why,” she said, louder. “I’ll forget you. I won’t love you.”</p>
<p>David jumped up and paced. “What the fuck are you talking about? I love you, but I’m not worth this. I’m not worth your life. You have to do it. We’ll work it all out after.”</p>
<p>Stevie coughed again, but produced nothing but green mucus.</p>
<p>“I'll probably never love you again,” she said. “I can’t forget you, I don’t want to. You’re the most important person in my life.” She hiccuped and spat more petals. “I need you.”</p>
<p>David fell to his knees in front of her. “I know. Trust me, I don’t know how I’ll—but you can’t…”</p>
<p>Patrick brushed her hair away from her face. “You can’t just die. That’s what we’re talking about.”</p>
<p>David flinched at the word. The word he didn’t want to say or hear or think about.</p>
<p>“I know,” Stevie said, jaw clenched. “Trust me, I’ve done nothing but think about this for the past week and it’s my decision.”</p>
<p>Tears fell from David’s eyes. Tears all around, all three of them.</p>
<p>David grabbed her hands in her lap. “Please don’t do this,” he begged. “Please. I can’t… I just can’t.”</p>
<p>He leaned forward and nuzzled against her sweat pants. “I can’t lose you. Not like that.”</p>
<p>“But you’ll lose me anyway,” she said. She ran a hand through his hair. “One way or another, we’ll be gone.”</p>
<p>David looked up at her. “Why the fuck are you even in love with me? How did you allow this to happen?”</p>
<p>“David—” Patrick started.</p>
<p>“We’ve been best friends… and you’ve never…” David shook his head, trying to unjumble his thoughts. “When I wanted you to go to New York?”</p>
<p>Stevie shook her head. “Not then, this is brand new. I didn’t expect it either.”</p>
<p>“But I love you!” David shouted. “This isn’t some unrequited bullshit. I fucking love you more than—I love you like Patrick, like my family. You <em> are </em> my family.”</p>
<p>“You’re not <em> in love </em> with me,” she said with a sad smile. “And that makes all the difference.”</p>
<p>David sat back on his heels. “This is bullshit.” He looked at her, feeling frantic. “I can fall in love with you.” He looked at Patrick. “I can love you both. Christ, Stevie, you’re perfect. I love you… I just love you.”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t work that way,” she said.</p>
<p>David stood and walked the length of the living room. “This can’t be happening,” he muttered. “This isn’t real, it’s not real.” </p>
<p>“Stevie,” Patrick said, “why don’t you stay with us tonight? I have some leftovers I can heat up and we’ll make up the guest room.”</p>
<p>She nodded.</p>
<p>“David?” Patrick asked.</p>
<p>David stopped his marching. “Yeah. You’re staying here, you’re not leaving.”</p>
<p>Patrick picked up the flower from Stevie’s crumpled tissue.</p>
<p>“It’s beautiful,” he marveled. “What is it?”</p>
<p>“Rhododendron. Twyla figured it out.” Stevie laughed. “They’re toxic.”</p>
<p>“What?” Patrick threw it on the coffee table.</p>
<p>“I think you’re okay as long as you don’t eat them.”</p>
<p>“No one wants to eat your disgusting lung flowers,” David said. It really was a stunning flower.</p>
<p>“Let’s get something to eat,” Patrick said, gently lifting her from the couch. He nodded at David as he directed her to the kitchen.</p>
<p>Fuck this. How could she not listen to him, <em> it was literally his fault</em>. No, it’s not going down like this. He’ll call in reinforcements. He’ll call the one person whose heart Stevie won’t break.</p>
<p><em> Wait until my father hears about this</em>.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Johnny arrived within twenty-four hours. Patrick picked him up from the airport and went directly to the house.</p>
<p>Stevie was set up in the guest room. She looked small tucked in the full-size bed from Patrick’s apartment. But she had blankets, water, snacks, books, and TV. And David watching her every move.</p>
<p>“Dude!” she yelled as David walked past the door for the tenth time in two minutes. “Either come in or stop.”</p>
<p>“Sorry,” David said. “I just want to make sure you’re okay and I don’t want to smother you, but I also want to smother you with a pillow, but that would just cancel out this whole situation…”</p>
<p>Stevie smiled. “Calm down. It’s okay, just come in if you want to. If not, I’ll call you if I need something.”</p>
<p>She started coughing on something, like it was stuck in her throat.</p>
<p>“See? This is why I don’t come in here, every time I do you barf up a flower.”</p>
<p>Stevie narrowed her eyes, popping a rhododendron bud from her mouth. “Are you sure you’re just not mad they aren’t roses?”</p>
<p>David folded his arms and shook his head. “No, that would be self-indulgent, narcissistic… Never crossed my mind.”</p>
<p>“You’re a terrible liar,” she said.</p>
<p>They heard the door open downstairs.</p>
<p>“They’re here!” David shook his hands in an attempt to brandish away his anxiety.</p>
<p>“Who's here?”</p>
<p>“Stevie?” a voice yelled from downstairs.</p>
<p>“You called your father?” Stevie hissed.</p>
<p>“What else can I do? You’re being unreasonable.”</p>
<p>“Well played. Asshole.”</p>
<p>Johnny froze in the doorway. His eyes scanned Stevie’s body, mouth opened to speak, but making no sound.</p>
<p>“Hi, Johnny,” Stevie said weakly. Given they were partners, Johnny insisted he and Stevie finally be on a first-name basis. It still sounded weird as shit, but David liked it.</p>
<p>“Stevie,” Johnny said softly. He sat in a chair next to the bed. He started to reach out his hand, but it held in the air, at a loss for what to do. Stevie held out a hand and Johnny took it.</p>
<p>“What happened?”</p>
<p>Patrick nudged David and they left the room. David left the door open a cracked and stood outside. Was he proud of eavesdropping? No, but these were trying times.</p>
<p>Patrick gestured and David shook his head. Patrick rolled his eyes and went downstairs.</p>
<p>“But what did the doctors say?”</p>
<p>There was a pause. “There’s nothing to do but surgery.”</p>
<p>“Are you sure? I can have someone flown in—”</p>
<p>“Thank you, but my internist already conferred with a colleague in Toronto. It’s the final word.”</p>
<p>“David tells me that isn’t what you want,” Johnny said.</p>
<p>Stevie coughed, her lungs sounded more brittle by the moment. It sounded dry, like there was nothing to expel. Just a fucking plant twining its way around her lungs, stealing her air, her life.</p>
<p>“I’ll forget him,” Stevie said. “I don’t want this version of my life to change. I don’t want to live in a different one.”</p>
<p>“But he’ll still be here,” Johnny said. “You’ll become friends again.”</p>
<p>“We might not,” she said. “My body and my brain will try <em> really </em> hard to reject him.”</p>
<p>“Okay, so you won’t have David,” Johnny’s voice was sure, like he was negotiating a deal. “But the rest of us will be here. Patrick, Alexis, Twyla…”</p>
<p>“You,” Stevie said softly.</p>
<p>“Yes, and me,” he agreed. His voice softened like it did when he tried to coax Moira out of a closet or say three words to David on his wedding day. “I’m not ready to let you go, Stevie.”</p>
<p>David covered his mouth, trying not to make a sound as the tears started to fall.</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry,” Stevie said. “I know I’m being selfish…”</p>
<p>“Oh, honey, no,” Johnny said. “No, you’re not selfish. Not wanting to… cut out a huge part of your life isn’t selfish. Dy—leaving isn’t selfish.”</p>
<p>They didn’t say anything for a while. Johnny finally cleared his throat.</p>
<p>“You know David loves you. He’s never had a friend like you, Stevie. You helped make him into the man he is today. He wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”</p>
<p>David bit his lip and wish he hadn’t stayed, but also couldn’t leave.</p>
<p>“That’s special,” Johnny said. “It’s rare. I can understand why you wouldn’t want to let that go.”</p>
<p>Pause.</p>
<p>“But?” Stevie wheezed.</p>
<p>“If <em> I </em> could be selfish for a moment—I don’t want to let go of that either. You changed him, you changed the <em> family</em>. I don’t want to guilt you into—well, I kind of do and might have to get Moira on the phone—but… I don’t want to lose you.”</p>
<p>David heard the thickness in his father’s voice and Stevie’s breathing sounded shallow and she kept sniffling.</p>
<p>“I don’t want to lose you either,” she whispered. “But David… I wish this wasn’t happening. I don’t know how it did. But, Mr. Rose, I just can’t. I’ve thought about it, and I can’t—”</p>
<p>“Mr. Rose” from Stevie sounded like “daddy” from him or Alexis.</p>
<p>“Shh,” Johnny soothed. “It’s okay, you’re okay. We’re okay.”</p>
<p>David wiped his hands down his face and went to his bedroom. He sat on the bed, head in hands. She can’t do this to him, to his dad. How could they convince her to get the operation? He’s not that fucking important, <em> why the fuck is she doing this</em>? How can she think that’s better than living? That she gets to break everyone else’s heart so hers won’t hurt? And it wouldn’t even hurt after, she’d be fine. David wouldn’t have her, but she’d still be there.</p>
<p>He felt like her flowers were consuming him. Dirt filled his lungs and spider-like tendrils crept along his skin, clinging like ivy, connecting him to Stevie. There was poison in his veins. It was suffocating. </p>
<p>He heard the bedroom door close and Patrick stood in front of him.</p>
<p>“I don’t think she’s changing her mind,” David said flatly.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>David stood, inches from Patrick’s face so he could whisper-yell so Stevie wouldn’t hear him.</p>
<p>“How fucking dare she? She knows what this is doing to us. If she loves me as much as she fucking says she does, then why won’t she do what I want?”</p>
<p>“It isn’t fair,” Patrick said in a steady voice, “but we have to let her make her own decisions.”</p>
<p>“No, there has to be something. I can get guardianship or power of attorney or—”</p>
<p>“You know the law makes exceptions for this,” Patrick said, rubbing his hands down David’s arms. “We can’t force her.”</p>
<p>“It’s like she doesn’t give a shit about us at all. She’s taking the easy way out.”</p>
<p>As soon as the words left David’s lips, he slapped his hands over his mouth, eyes wide. He shook his head and his red eyes pleaded with Patrick.</p>
<p>“I didn’t mean it—” he said. “Oh, god.”</p>
<p>Patrick gathered David in his arms. “I know you didn’t,” he whispered. “I know.”</p>
<p>David clung to Patrick’s back, holding fistfuls of fabric. He shook. He’d cried, but hadn’t <em> cried </em> cried yet. Patrick held him as each sob tore through his body. Each wail felt like it yanked a plant from the ground, deep inside his stomach. The thorns that choked him were being ripped away, but he needed them. He needed them to feel her.</p>
<p>“I don’t know how…” David said into Patrick’s shoulder. “I can’t do this, what do I do?” He looked at Patrick. “What do I do, Patrick?”</p>
<p>Patrick wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “I don’t know, David. I don’t know.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Patrick’s Bouquet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>May I direct you once more to the playlist I linked in chapter one, in case you need an extra cry.</p>
<p>Thanks to DocOlive and NeelyO for their cheerleading.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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<p>Stevie deteriorated quickly over the next few days. Patrick had her doctor come to the house, so she wouldn’t have to travel. Because of the flowers’ toxicity, her body was succumbing to the disease at an accelerated rate. Not only was her body trying to expel the flowers, it was also trying to purge poison.</p>
<p>Within five days of staying at their house, Stevie had IV fluids, an oxygen tank, and a palliative care nurse who came by twice a day. Which is all they can do now. <em> Keep her comfortable</em>. Their guest room had become a hospice.</p>
<p>Patrick sat at the dining room table, head in his hands, paperwork spread in front of him. Home care instructions, Stevie’s living will, a hand-written list of Stevie’s wishes, cards from Patrick’s family who had only met Stevie once at the wedding.</p>
<p>“How are you doing?”</p>
<p>The voice startled him. Twyla stood at the kitchen counter overlooking the dining room. She’d been bringing food over every day from the cafe, on the house. With Patrick’s parents, David’s parents, Alexis, and Twyla coming and going, Patrick and David decided it was much easier to have an open-door policy.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Patrick said, rubbing his eyes. “Just, you know, not getting a lot of sleep these days.”</p>
<p>Twyla placed a bursting paper bag on the counter and sat next to Patrick.</p>
<p>“Have you been taking care of yourself?” she asked.</p>
<p>Patrick blinked. “What? I’m fine, there’s just a lot to do.”</p>
<p>“You have to take care of yourself to be able to help others.”</p>
<p>Patrick nodded. His mother had said as such in the past. He always barreled through problems, fixing situations, making people happy.</p>
<p>“I’m okay, really.”</p>
<p>“Okay, I just want you to know you don’t have to keep everyone together and take care of everything yourself. You’re allowed to be sad or angry or feel whatever you need to."</p>
<p>How does Twyla know what to say?</p>
<p>“Thanks,” he said. He looked down. “I just want—I want to make sure no one has to deal with doctors or paperwork or… the funeral.”</p>
<p>“It feels good for you to help, doesn’t it?”</p>
<p>Patrick nodded. “It’s all I know how to do.”</p>
<p>Twyla squeezed his hand, and this small gesture managed to wring tears from his eyes.</p>
<p>“I need to take care of her. Of David, of everyone. I have to <em> do </em> something in a situation in which, <em> fuck</em>, nothing can really be done.” He looked at Twyla. “And none of us are sleeping. We… I think we don’t want to miss a minute with her.”</p>
<p>“Then make sure you spend time with her—just the two of you. You’re friends too; it’s not just her and the Roses.”</p>
<p>Patrick nodded again. “I know, but David’s her best friend and the Roses are her family…”</p>
<p>“And it’s scary?” Twyla asked softly.</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Patrick wiped his cheeks. “It’s so hard—I hate seeing her that way. I mean, I know everyone does, but it feels so close to the end now, it’s hard, you know?”</p>
<p>“I know,” Twyla said. “I’m gonna sit with her while I’m on my lunch break, come with me?”</p>
<p>“Okay.”</p>
<p>Stevie was asleep, but Patrick and Twyla stayed in the room for an hour anyway. Not speaking, just holding Stevie’s hands and watching her shallow breathing.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“Hey,” Stevie said as Patrick entered the bedroom.</p>
<p>“Hey yourself.” Patrick stuck his hands in his pockets. “Saw your nurse leave, did she give you the good stuff?”</p>
<p>“You know it.” Stevie pointed to a chair. “Sit before I fall asleep.”</p>
<p>Patrick sat next to her, pulling the chair close to the bed. Stevie narrowed her eyes at him.</p>
<p>“How are you doing?” she asked.</p>
<p>“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”</p>
<p>“Because you do <em> everything </em> and we don’t want you to burn out.”</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” he said. “I just want to make sure everything is taken care of. That everyone… gets time with you.”</p>
<p>“And that’s very thoughtful, but I want to spend time with <em> you</em>.”</p>
<p>Patrick looked down. “I’m sorry I haven’t been here, I’m just trying…” He looked at Stevie. “I just want to make things okay.”</p>
<p>“Look around, man. Things are pretty fucking far from okay.” She studied his face. “I know this is scary and I probably look terrifying, especially because Alexis and David won’t stop messing with my hair, but I want you here.”</p>
<p>Patrick huffed a laugh. “I talked David out of doing your makeup, so you’re welcome.”</p>
<p>“I love those lunatics.”</p>
<p>“Me too.” Patrick took her hand and was quiet for a long moment. “I love you too.”</p>
<p>“I know you do.”</p>
<p>“I just—”</p>
<p>“You want to know why I’m doing it,” Stevie said. Patrick nodded. “Because what would it mean if I did have the surgery?” Stevie said.</p>
<p>“That you’d be okay.”</p>
<p>“Would I?” she asked. “I’d lose my best friend, my soul mate, the most important person in my life.” She squeezed his hand. “Would you do it?”</p>
<p>“That’s different.”</p>
<p>“Why? Because you’re married? Patrick, you know what he means to me.”</p>
<p>“I do,” he said quietly. He’d long since accepted David and Stevie’s unique relationship. It was beyond being best friends. She was folded into their family. She understood David in a way he never would, like they <em> were </em> soul mates.</p>
<p>“I’d probably do the same thing,” he admitted.</p>
<p>“Even though it would destroy David?”</p>
<p>His eyes filled with tears. Could he do that to David?</p>
<p>“It wouldn’t be fair to him… but I don’t think I could lose what I feel for him, my memories of him.”</p>
<p>“It’s kinda selfish, isn’t it?” she asked.</p>
<p>“No! No, it’s not selfish,” Patrick selfish. “It’s—”</p>
<p>“Selfish,” Stevie whispered with a sad smile. “I know it is, I’m just not strong enough.”</p>
<p>Patrick leaned his forearms on her bed, still gripping her hand. “Some may say you’re incredibly strong. Going through all this pain just to keep him in your heart. It’s an impossible decision.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” she said, averting his eyes. “I still feel like an asshole.”</p>
<p>“No one said you weren’t.”</p>
<p>She laughed. “Take care of him, yeah?”</p>
<p>“Always.”</p>
<p>Stevie wiped her cheek. “Oh my god, everyone is so serious when they come in here. It’s annoying.”</p>
<p>“I get that but… can I say one more serious thing? Then I’m done and we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled Patrick/Stevie goof-arounds.”</p>
<p>She nodded.</p>
<p>“Knowing you is one of the best things in my life. I’m grateful every day that becoming David’s family meant I became yours too.”</p>
<p>“Jesus, I’m already dehydrated. I can’t cry anymore.”</p>
<p>Patrick smiled. “I love you, Stevie.”</p>
<p>“Ugh.”</p>
<p>“My world will never be the same.”</p>
<p>“Stop.”</p>
<p>“You’ve made me a better person. You’re like a sister. You’re the light of my life, my port in the storm, the wind beneath my wings—”</p>
<p>“Oh my god, stop!” Stevie laughed.</p>
<p>Patrick laughed too. “I’m so sorry my deep, unyielding love for you makes you uncomfortable.”</p>
<p>“Such a dick.”</p>
<p>She yawned, which caused her to gag. She held his hand tight as she leaned forward and retched up a flower. And a bud. And another flower. And petals.</p>
<p>“That’s a lot,” Patrick said. </p>
<p>“Yeah, I’ve been doing that.” She took a sip of water. “You’d think they’d be gone, so much is coming out.”</p>
<p>“Are you tired?”</p>
<p>She nodded. She usually slept for a while after her pain meds.</p>
<p>“Stay with me?” she asked.</p>
<p>“Of course."</p>
<p>She drifted off within minutes. Patrick cleaned the flowers, adjusted her blanket, and pressed a long kiss on her forehead before leaving her room.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>"How is she doing?” Alexis asked when Patrick came downstairs. It was how every conversation with everyone started.</p>
<p>“She’s fine, she’s asleep.”</p>
<p>Alexis sat at the dining room table with her laptop.</p>
<p>“Work?” he asked.</p>
<p>Alexis nodded. “Not so bad though. I think I’d go crazy if I had nothing to do.”</p>
<p>Since she came in from New York two days ago, she’s been staying on their couch. There were no questions, no negotiations. She announced she wasn’t leaving and their couch was more comfortable than the old beds at the motel.</p>
<p>“Where’s David?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Taking a nap. I basically shoved him into your bedroom.”</p>
<p>“Thank you.”</p>
<p>“You don’t have to thank me,” she said. “I’m not here just for Stevie and David. I’m here for you too.”</p>
<p>She booped his nose and it was like she pressed a button that opened a dam inside him. He sat next to her and put his head on the table and sobbed. Alexis pulled her chair next to his and brought his head to her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him and let him cry.</p>
<p>What was he going to do without Stevie?</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“Patrick? Patrick, babe, it’s time.”</p>
<p>Patrick opened his eyes to find Alexis sitting next to him on the bed, hand on his arm. He sat up.</p>
<p>“No,” he said. “It can’t be.”</p>
<p>Alexis stood and held out her hand. “I know, I’m sorry. David’s with her and she’s asking for you.”</p>
<p>Patrick let Alexis pull him across the hall. David’s chair sat so close his legs pressed against the bed. He was stroking her hair and looking into her eyes. The oxygen cannulas were no longer in her nose and pale blue petals covered Stevie’s blanket.</p>
<p>Alexis nudged Patrick to the chair on the other side of Stevie. “I’ve been here a while,” she whispered. “You sit.” Alexis sat in a dining room chair at the foot of the bed.</p>
<p>Stevie looked at Patrick and smiled. “Hey.”</p>
<p>“Hey,” he whispered. “You look like shit.”</p>
<p>She regarded him a moment. “You don’t look so hot yourself. And watch it—those could be the last words you ever say to me.”</p>
<p>Patrick winced.</p>
<p>“Fine,” Patrick said, “you look like shit, I love you.”</p>
<p>“That’s better."</p>
<p>Patrick looked at Alexis. “Your parents coming?”</p>
<p>Alexis shook her head. “They were here all morning. They were, you know, a bit much.”</p>
<p>Stevie held out a hand and Patrick took it. “I only need you guys here.”</p>
<p>Patrick sniffled, overwhelmed with the familiar feeling of tears. He wished he could be strong when Stevie needed him most. When David and Alexis did.</p>
<p>“How do you feel?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Okay. The nurse was here earlier, gave me some good juice,” she wheezed. “It just keeps getting harder to breathe.”</p>
<p>“Then save your breath,” Patrick said.</p>
<p>“For what?” Stevie tried to laugh, but retched on some limp petals. “Gotta say everything now, right?”</p>
<p>Patrick nodded.</p>
<p>“I would have done this before so this would be less… shitty, but I didn’t know it would happen so fast.”</p>
<p>“I’m gonna miss you.” Patrick’s voice cracked. “More than I’ve ever missed anything in my life.” He stroked her hair, his fingers brushing over David’s. “Are you scared?” <em> What a stupid fucking question</em>.</p>
<p>“Kinda? Honestly, these meds have me pretty chilled and David was kind enough to shotgun some weed.”</p>
<p>Patrick’s eyes widened. “Is that a good idea?”</p>
<p>David shrugged. “What’s gonna happen? She's gonna get lung cancer?”</p>
<p>Before Patrick took his nap, David and Stevie were alone. He’s not sure how long he was out, but now they seemed peaceful together. Like they were in on something Patrick and Alexis weren’t. Alexis clutched a box of tissues and handed one to Patrick.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what comes next,” Stevie said. “I’m guessing nothing, but you never know. Best case scenario, I haunt you guys.”</p>
<p>Patrick laughed beneath his tears. He desperately wanted to know if, in this moment, she still thought it was worth it, but he could never ask that. There was nothing to be done anyway. He looked at David and tried to imagine not knowing him the way he does now. He couldn’t. He couldn’t imagine it at all.</p>
<p>Stevie looked among the three of them. “I want you guys to know I don’t regret this. I went into this with my eyes open.” She coughed and Patrick offered to get her some water. She shook her head. “Can’t keep anything down.” She looked at David. “I don’t regret you.”</p>
<p>“I know,” he said softly. “I only regret being so lovable.”</p>
<p>Stevie rolled her eyes. “Okay, let’s not get crazy.”</p>
<p>Her eyes kept drifting close. “I’m really tired,” she said.</p>
<p>“You should get some sleep,” David said. “We’ll be here.” His eyes were clear as he smiled at Stevie.</p>
<p>“Thanks. Love you,” she said and her eyes closed. She was still breathing.</p>
<p>They sat in silence for several very long minutes. Her chest still rose and fell, but her hand fell limp.</p>
<p>“I don’t think she’s in there anymore,” David said.</p>
<p>Alexis choked on a sob and leaned over Patrick, kissing Stevie’s forehead. “I love you,” she whispered.</p>
<p>Patrick squeezed her hand and kissed her temple. “I love you. So much,” he said against her cheek. “I’ll take care of David for you.”</p>
<p>David sat on the bed next to her and leaned down. He whispered in her ear, but Patrick couldn’t hear what he said.</p>
<p>Then he couldn’t see her chest moving anymore.</p>
<p>Patrick pressed two fingers behind her ear, checking for a pulse, and not finding one.</p>
<p>David sniffled, eyes red but not crying. “Can you call my parents?” he asked Patrick.</p>
<p>“Of course.”</p>
<p>“I’ll call Twyla,” Alexis said. Her was voice warped with tears.</p>
<p>“I think, um, I think I just want to sit here a while. With her,” David said.</p>
<p>Patrick stood. “We’ll take care of everything.”</p>
<p>He and Alexis whispered one last goodbye before they left the room.</p>
<p>Patrick stood in the door a moment, watching David hold Stevie’s hand, unmoving. He wanted to stay. He didn’t want David to be alone, but he also didn’t want Stevie to be alone, which was stupid because—</p>
<p>He took one last look at his beautiful friend, long hair spread beneath her shoulders, surrounded by flowers.</p>
<p>He wanted to watch over David, but this time was for David alone.</p>
<p>He took out his phone and followed Alexis downstairs.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Rhododendron is from the ancient Greek <em>rhodon</em> meaning "rose" and <em>dendro</em> meaning "tree."</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/corvidapocalypse">Tumblr</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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